


Journey

by river1983



Series: Tumblr Collections [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Distinguished Gay Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Gay Disaster Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable bastards, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Tumblr Prompt, a tiny bit of angst, anyway, aziraphale and crowley through history, but also chaotic, one word prompt, pining bastards, soft, the shows through their history with added pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river1983/pseuds/river1983
Summary: A reiteration of the first 30 minutes of the 3rd episode with added pieces of my own.Based off of a word prompt, with the word journey.journey - an act of traveling from one place to another.





	Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Credit Disclaimer: Some of the scenes and lines are from the TV show Good Omens. I DO NOT own Good Omens, it belongs to Neil Gaimen and Terry Pratchett.

Starting six thousand years ago, in the beginning, an angel and a demon met in the Garden of Eden at the beginning of everything. The demon had just finished his job, and though he wouldn’t explicitly admit it, he didn’t agree with the punishment that ensued to the only two humans on the face of the Earth. The angel didn’t either, and rebelled slightly by giving the humans aid. The demon and the angel stood side by side as the first storm rained down on them, and the angel offered his wing to the demon, who gladly welcomed it.

This was only the beginning.

\--

A thousand years later in Mesopotamia, they met again as Noah and two of every animal (minus the unicorn...it got away) boarded the Ark to escape the oncoming raging storm that would wipe out the human race. The angel, named Aziraphale, explained the Almighty's plan to the demon, doubt creeping into his mind with every word he said.

“_All_ of them?” The demon asked incredulously. Heaven? Kill all of Creation? That sounds more like Hell.

“Well, not all of them,” The angel responded. “Noah, up there, his wife, sons, and their wives will live.”

“And they’re going to _drown_ everybody else?”

The angel nodded hesitantly. Of course, it was wrong,_ of course_. But what was he to do about it?

“You mustn't judge the Almighty, Crawley,” The angel said. “God’s plans are--”

“Are you going to say ineffable?” Crawley asked with a huff.

“...Possibly.”

Rain fell down on the two, signifying the start of the wipe out the human race. The demon looked up like he couldn’t believe this was happening, and the angel looked down, ashamed.

\--

“Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?”

In Golgotha, 33 AD., the angel and the demon found themselves together again.

“Smirk? Me?”

“Well, your lot put him on there,” The demon, now named Crowley, spat.

The demon had met him, Jesus. He felt...bad, for the man--for his fate. Showed him all the kingdoms of the world.

Aziraphale winced as the nail was hammered deeper and deeper into Jesus’ wrist. Guilt seeped into his angelic bones, despite knowing he was not consulted.

Jesus was pulled upright as he wailed in agony, the angel and the demon together watching on.

\--

Eight years later the pair met again on accident, presumably, in Rome.

The angel spotted the demon at ‘the bar’ and moved to sit next to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Still a demon then?”

“What type of question is that? Still a demon, what else am I supposed to be an aardvark?” Crowley retaliated, irritated. He took a sip of his house brown.

“Salutaria.” They clinked glasses.

The angel cleared his throat. “In Rome long?”

“Just popped in for a quick temptation. You?”

“I thought I’d try Petronius’ new restaurant. I hear he does _remarkable_ things to oysters.”

Crowley sipped his drink again. “I’ve never had an oyster.”

Aziraphale looked at the demon incredulously. “Oh, well let me tempt you to--”

The demon turned around with a smirk, looking at the angel.

“Oh,” The angel muttered, realizing his mistake. “No, that’s your job isn’t it?”

Crowley smiled and sipped his drink again, falling just a little more for the angel.

\--

Rome was falling.

  
It was 79 AD as the demon covered his face onslaught of soot fell on the ruins of Pompeii. He wasn’t even supposed to still be there, but one quick temptation turned into a more complicated matter.

But nothing that was happening now was his doing. He ran through the ruins as fire erupted in shop and homes. People running in all directions as they tried to escape the city.

Crowley ran through the ruins, trying not to get discorporated, when he bumped into a little girl who was crying. Kneeling down, the demon grabbed the little girl without thought and continued to look for an exit. As he passed a shop, he saw a sliver of white hair and turned around.

“Aziraphale?” He said incredulously as he walked into the shop, trying not to inhale the smoke with the little girl in his arms.

“Crowley,” He looked at the little girl then back at Crowley.

“What the Hel--Heaven’s are you doing!?”

“I was looking for some old scrolls--”

“The city is on _fire_ and you’re looking for scrolls?”

They ducked as another boom shook the ground.

“Aziraphale, we have to go now or you’ll be discorporated!”

“What does that matter to yo--”

“No time! I have to get this girl to safety, come on!”

He tugged Aziraphale along and searched for a way out of the falling city. Soot covered them head to toe as they emerged from the city as volcanic ash continued to fall, coughing from the thick smoke that hung in the air. They got as far from the city as they could before Crowley set the girl down.

“Try and find your family, alright? Don’t go near the city.”

The little girl nodded and ran off, leaving the angel and the demon alone.

Aziraphale stared at Crowley. “Why’d you save her?”

Crowley snorted as he settled himself on the ground. “What was I supposed to do, just leave her there?”

“Well, you _are_ a demon.”

Crowley scoffed. “You know that wasn’t my doing, right? I didn’t set that volcano to explode.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley. “I know.”

As the demon watched the city fall, the angel couldn’t help but stare at the demon in curiosity. A demon showing empathy and compassion? It was different.

He could get used to it.

\--

In the Kingdom of Wessex in 537 AD., the demon and the angel were doing their respective jobs, fomenting peace and causing trouble, without knowing of the other’s presence.

“I was hoping to meet with the Black Knight?”

Aziraphale (of the Table Round) walked forward as the Black Knight emerged from the smoke.

“You have sought the Black Knight, foolish one,” The Black Knight responded. “But you have found your death.”

Aziraphale squinted and tilted his head. “Is that you under there Crawley?”

“_Crowley_,” Crowley responded, pulling up his helmet, revealing his yellow, piercing snake eyes.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Aziraphale said in exasperation.

“I’m here spreading foment.”

“What is that, some kind of porridge?”

“No. I’m, you know, fomenting dissent and discord.”

“Well, I’m meant to be fomenting peace.”

“So we’re both working very hard in a damp place just canceling each other out?”

“Well, when you put it like that...it _is_ a bit damp.”

“Be easier if we both just stayed home.”

Aziraphale looked at the demon, confused.

“Just send messages back to head office, saying we’ve done everything they asked for, wouldn’t it?”

“But that would be _lying_,” Aziraphale exclaimed.

Crowley looked to the side and shrugged. “Eh, possibly, but the end result would be the same.”

“But,” Aziraphale protested. “my dear fellow, they’d check!” His face hardened slightly. “You don’t want Gabriel to get upset with you.”

“Oh, our lot have better things to do than verifying compliance on Earth.”

“No! Absolutely not. We’re not having this conversation, not another word.” Aziraphale turned around, going back to the knights behind him.

“Right,” The demon muttered as he closed his helmet.”

“Right!”

\--

It was right in the middle of the 14th century, in 1347 as the Black Death raged across Europe, Crowley and Aziraphale are together again.

“I_ hate_ the 14th century,” Crowley growled as he paced the room he was in. “The humans are all at war with each other, disease is wiping out half the population, there’s nothing to _do_.”

Aziraphale sighed. He had been hearing Crowley rant about this century for 20 years now. “Isn’t this supposed to be good for you? You can lie to your head office about all the wondrous work you are doing, possibly get that promotion.”

Crowley groaned.

“Can you do me a favor?” Crowley asked as he collapsed on the chair.

“What would it be?”

“What if you...” Crowley started. “Did both the tempting and the blessing?”

Aziraphale whipped around. “You can’t be serious!?”

Crowley shrugged. “The end result would be the same. There’s no point in both of us being here since we just cancel each other out.”

Aziraphale said nothing.

“It saves time,” Crowley added.

“But if Hell or Heaven found out--”

“No one has to know, Aziraphale.”

The angel sighed. “Fine, I agree to this...arrangement. But only this once, Crowley.”

The demon smirked. “Sure, angel.” He walked out the door.

The angel blushed at the nickname and watched Crowley as he left, sighing in defeat.

That was the beginning of the Arrangement.

\--

At the Globe Theatre in London, 1601, the angel and the demon met again.

As Burbage performed Shakespeare’s Hamlet on the stage (with very few watching), Aziraphale watched with a smile on his face as Crowley stood next to him, smirking at the angel.

“He’s very good, isn’t he?”

“Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety,” Crowley responds, profoundly.

Shakespeare looks at Crowley strangely. “Yeah, I like that,” he says, slowing walking off to write it down somewhere.

As Shakespeare walked away, Aziraphale piped up.

“What do you want?”

“Why ever would you insinuate that I might possibly want something?”

“You are up to no good.”

“Obviously. You are up to good, I take it?”

“No rest for the...well, good,” Aziraphale responded. He turned toward the demon. “I have to be in Edinburgh by the end of the week. A couple of miracles to perform.”

He made a face. “Apparently I have to ride a horse.”

Crowley grimaces. “Oh, hard on the buttocks, horses. A major design flaw if you ask me.”

  
Crowley walks around to the other side. “I’m meant to be heading to Edinburgh too this week,” He says. It was slightly too convenient, heading to the same place as Aziraphale.

“I thought we should...” He trails off, looking at the angel expectedly.

“You cannot actually be suggesting...” Aziraphale started, trailing off. “What I infer...you are implying.”

“Which is?” Crowley teased.

“That only one of us goes to Edinburgh, do both.”

“We’ve done it before,” Crowley says, looking back at the stage. “Dozens of times now.”

He leaned towards the angel. “The arrangement--” He sing-songed before Aziraphale cut him off.

“Don’t say that!” He whispered, more afraid of Heaven than of the demon next to him.

“Our respective head offices don’t actually care how things get done,” Crowley retorts.

“But if Hell finds out, they won’t just be angry,” Aziraphale protests, voice softening with worry for the demon. “They’ll_ destroy_ you.”

“No one has to know,” Crowley reassured, pulling out a coin. “Toss you for Edinburgh?”

Aziraphale sighs but gives in. “Fine, heads.”

Crowley flips the coin, both of them leaning in to look. “Tails, I’m afraid. You’re going to Scotland.” Aziraphale sighed, turning back to the stage.

“-it’d take a miracle for anyone to come and see Hamlet,” the pair hear Shakespeare complain, shaking his head.

Aziraphale turned toward the demon, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yes, alright, I’ll do that one, my treat,” Crowley said, falsely exasperated.

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale says with a smile.

“I still prefer the funny ones,” Crowley says as he walks out.

Aziraphale turns toward the stage again with a smile on his face, popping another grape into his mouth. The angel won’t admit it, but he was starting to warm up to the demon.

And the demon would never admit he was already far gone on the angel.

\--

Aziraphale sat in a cell, hands chained to the wall in Paris, 1793. He sighed as he looked at his confined hands. All he wanted were some crepes, for Heaven’s sake.

A man walked into the cell, speaking to him in French. Probably something about cutting his head off in about five minutes...His French was a little off.

After a bad attempt at responding to the man in French, the man revealed himself as Jean-Claude (in English), his personal executor.

“You are lucky that it is I, Jean-Claude, who will remove your traitorous head from your shoulders!”

“Look, this is all a terrible mistake. I don’t think you understand--”

“I have some good news for you. You are the 999th aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand! But the first English.”

The angel smiled curtly and nodded, beginning to regret dressing the way he did, and found himself wishing Crowley was here.

“Now--” Jean-Clause moved to remove his scarf.

Aziraphale stood up quickly, stepping toward the wall. “Please! No!” He said. “Dreadful mistake, discorporating me,” He blew air out of his mouth and rolled his eyes. “Ugh, it’ll be a _complete_ nightmare,”

Jean-Claude looked at the angel, confused about his sudden outburst. The sound of the guillotine blade filled the cell again and the executor turned toward the window, then time froze.

“Animals,” Aziraphale muttered.

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, angel. Only humans do that,” A familiar voice said behind him.

Aziraphale’s whole face and mood lit up (without his permission). “Crowley,” He said with relief as he turned around.

The demon sat on a rock in the corner, dressed in “appropriate” attire at the time, due to where they were. Aziraphale looked him over, appalled. “Oh, good Lord,” He said, setting his shoulders a little straighter.

“What in the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille? I thought you were opening a bookshop,” The demon says incredulously, propping his arm on the wall next to him as he stared at the angel through his glasses.

“I _was_,” He nodded. “...I got peckish.”

“Peckish?’“ Crowley inquired, leaning forward a bit.

“Well if you must know it was the crepes,” Aziraphale admitted, moving to sit down in his chair, still chained. “You can only find decent ones in Paris. And the brioche,” He said with a tilt of his head.

“So you just popped around the Channel during a revolution because you wanted something to nibble? Dressed like that?”

“I _have_ standards.” Aziraphale defended.

Crowley smirked slightly, amused by the angel’s stubbornness, even if it almost got him killed.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and Aziraphale’s chains fell to the ground. the angel rubbed his wrists, looking back at the demon.

“I suppose I should thank you. For the, uh, rescue.”

Crowley got up from his seat, walking over to the angel. “Don’t say that. If my people hear that I rescued an angel I’ll be the one in trouble. And they don’t give strongly worded notes.”

“Well anyway, I am very grateful,” the angel said, looking at the demon in the eye. “What if I buy you lunch?”

The demon raised an eyebrow. “Looking like that?”

Aziraphale glared at the angel in annoyance, before huffing and snapping his fingers, changing his attire so it was similar to Jean-Claude’s.

The angel stepped over to the demon and stood next to him as Crowley snapped his fingers once more, changing Jean-Claude’s attire so it looked like he was the aristocrat, and the guards pulled him away while Crowley and Aziraphale watched undetected.

“So what’s for lunch?” Crowley said to the angel, turning to face him.

“How would you feel about some crepes?” Aziraphale responded with a smile.

\--

The angel and the demon stood by a pond in St. James’ Park in 1862, Aziraphale throwing bread into the pond for the ducks while Crowley just stood, preparing to ask a question.

“Look, I’ve been thinking, what of it all goes wrong?” Crowley started, still staring out across the pond. “We have a lot on common, you and me.”

“I don’t know. We both may have started off as angels, but you are fallen,” Aziraphale responded someone terse. He had found himself becoming too attached to the demon, and by any circumstances, he simply couldn’t.

“I didn’t really fall,” Crowley argued, slightly hurt by Aziraphale’s comment. “I just, you know...sauntered vaguely downward.”

He cleared his throat. “I need a favor.”

Aziraphale threw the last of his breadcrumbs and put his hat back on. “We already have an agreement, Crowley.”

“This is something different,” Crowley handed him a slip of paper. “I wrote it down. Walls have ears. I mean, trees have ears. Ducks have ears.”

Aziraphale opened the paper and his eyes widened as he read the words.

“Do ducks have ears? They must do, it’s how they hear other ducks.”

“Absolutely out of the question!” Aziraphale retorted, appalled. How could the demon even ask him of this?

“Why not?”

“It would _destroy_ you!” Aziraphale whispered, worry dripping through his voice. “I’m not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley!” He shoved the slip back into the demon’s hand, angry that he would even suggest such a thing.

“Not what I want it for, just insurance,” Crowley insisted, handing him back the paper, which had the words Holy Water scrawled over it.

Aziraphale’s distant façade dropped. “I’m not an idiot, Crowley,” He almost pleaded. “Do you know what trouble I’d be in if...” He looked up at the sky, then quieting his voice. “They knew I’ve been fraternizing!?”

Crowley turned toward the angel, finally. “_Fraternizing?_” He spat. He thought they were past this--seeing each other as the enemy.

“Or whatever you wish to call it,” Aziraphale responded, his anger and hurt still seeping through. “I do not see any point in discussing it further.”

“I have lots of other people to _fraternize_ with, angel,” Crowley retorted, when in fact, he did not.

“Of course you do.”

“I don’t need you,” When in fact, he did.

“Well, the feeling’s mutual, obviously!” Aziraphale said, whipping around and storming away, throwing the slip of paper in the pond where it caught on fire.

Crowley turned back to the pond. That conversation did _not_ go as planned.

“Obviously,” Crowley mocked, hiding his hurt.

\--

As Aziraphale negotiated with Nazi’s in London, 1941, he couldn’t get Crowley out of his mind. He hadn’t seen the demon in a little over a century. They had left on...less than ideal terms, and despite how much Aziraphale tried not to, he missed the demon. It was unlike Crowley not to pop up somewhere, and the angel worried that he might not see the demon ever again. He didn’t--_couldn’t_ regret saying no to giving Crowley holy water, whether it was for insurance or not. The chance was too great.

Mr. Golzier pulled a gun after Aziraphale put his beloved books down.

“Such a pity you must be eliminated, but take heart,” he said, cocking the gun. “Just another death in the Blitz.”

“That’s not very sporting,” Aziraphale said.

Golzier cocked his head. “You don’t appear worried, my friend.”

A woman appeared behind him, cocking her gun, just like Aziraphale planned.

”He is not worried,” she said.

“Who’s she?” Mr. Harmony said, standing up.

“She, my double-dealing Nazi acquaintance, is the reason why none of those books are going back to Berlin! And why your nasty little spy ring will be spending the rest of the war behind bars!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Let me introduce you to Captain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence.”

“Thank you for the introduction,” Captain Rose said calmly.

“So, Rose, where exactly are your people?”

Harmony let his hands fall. “We are all here,” He laughed.

Golzier walked towards the Captain. “Allow me to introduce Fraulien Greta Klienschmidt. She works for us.”

She pointed the gun at the angel, who stepped back, mouth gaped.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, killing you.”

“You can’t kill me!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “There’ll be _paperwork_.”

A door slammed. All four turned their heads to the sound.

In comes no one other than Crowley, hopping around on the consecrated ground they were standing on, making sounds of discomfort.

Aziraphale had never been so glad and furious to see the demon.

“Sorry, consecrated ground,” Crowley gasped, still hopping around. “Oh! It’s like being at the beach in bare feet!”

“What are_ you_ doing here?” Aziraphale exclaimed. _I’m so glad to see you._

“Stopping you from getting into trouble,” He retorted.

Azirphale rolled his eyes. “I should have known. These are your people.”

The demon leaned on a pue. “No! They’re a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running around killing people, I just didn’t want to see you getting embarrassed. Gah!” He hopped around some more.

“Mr. Anthony J. Crowley,” Golzier says. “Your fame precedes you.”

“Anthony?” Aziraphale asks.

“You don’t like it?” Crowley responded, ignoring Nazi.

“No, no, I didn’t say that,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I’ll get used to it.”

“In about a minute,” Crowley said suddenly. “a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here.” He pointed to the ground they were standing on. “If you all run away very, very fast, you might not die. You won’t enjoy dying, and definitely won’t enjoy what comes after.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Golzier scoffs. “The bombs tonight will fall on the East End.”

“Yes. It would take a last-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course, yes.”

Aziraphale looked toward the demon, realizing his plan.

“You’re all wasting your valuable running away time!” Crowley exclaimed. “And! If, in thirty seconds a bomb did land here, it would take a real _miracle_ for my friend and I to survive it.” He looked toward Aziraphale with his shaded eyes.

“A real miracle?” Aziraphale stammered. _Oh, right._

“Kill them,” Harmony said. “They are very irritating.”

On cue, Crowley pointed his fingers up at the roof and the sound of a whistling bomb sounded. All three Nazi's looked up toward the sound in disbelief.

Then the bomb landed.

Aziraphale and Crowley stood unharmed in the rubble, the demon cleaning his glasses and the angel taking off his hat.

“That was very kind of you,” The angel said, in slight disbelief. After that entire argument they had a century ago, he was surprised the demon would come to his aid, that he even knew where Aziraphale _was_.

Crowley pulled his glasses over his yellow snake eyes. “Shut up.” He said jokingly, hiding his smile.

“Well, it was. No paperwork, for a start.” Aziraphale smiled.

“Oh, the books! Oh, I forgot all the books! Oh, they’ll be blown to--”

Crowley walked over to Harmony’s dead body, buried underneath the rubble. he wrenched the bag of books from his dead hand and handed it to the angel.

“A little demonic miracle of my own.” He said. “Lift home?”

He walked away, and Aziraphale stared at his back in disbelief. He couldn’t believe Crowley had remembered his beloved books when Aziraphale didn’t.

That was the moment the angel realized the inevitable.

He was in love with a demon.

\--

While Crowley negotiated plans to steal holy water in Soho, 1967, he wondered about Aziraphale.

There was something about the angel that Crowley couldn't pin that drew the demon in, as much as he hated it. He had _feelings_ for Aziraphale, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He wasn’t supposed to _feel_, not after the Fall. Especially not for an angel.

He walked over to his car after an interesting conversation with Shadwell, collapsing into the driver’s seat. He looked to his left and saw Aziraphale sitting in the passenger’s seat.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley asked incredulously. _I was just thinking about you._

“I needed a word with you,” Aziraphale responded.

“What?”

“I work in Soho, I hear things.” He paused. “I hear that you’re setting up a...caper to rob a church.”

Crowley sighed and turned his head forward.

“Crowley, it’s too dangerous,” Aziraphale pleaded. “Holy water won’t just destroy your body, it’ll destroy you_ completely_.”

“You told me what you think one hundred and eight years ago,” Crowley said, turning back to the angel.

“And I haven’t changed my mind,” Aziraphale interrupted. “But I _can’t_ have you risking your life.” _You mean too much to me._

“So...” Aziraphale pulled out a beige flask. Crowley’s eyebrows raised slightly as he looked at the flask. “You can call off the robbery.” The angel held the flask gingerly, as if it might break and the water would spill out, vaporizing the demon forever. He shuddered at the thought.

Crowley looked at the angel in surprised, then back at the flask. He took the flask gingerly, holding it out in front of him.

_I’m not planning to use it on myself, angel._ He wanted to say. But he didn’t.

“After everything you said?” He said instead, the century left not talking that they both regretted brought up without speaking of it.  
Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley looked at the flask again in disbelief. “Should I say thank you?” He said after a while, looking back at the angel.

“Better not,” Aziraphale said, smiling softly.

“Well can I drop you off anywhere?” _Please let me say thank you._

“No, thank you.”

Crowley’s face fell.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed.” _Please._ “Perhaps one day we could...go for a picnic,” Aziraphale smiled at the thought. “Dine at the Ritz.” He smiled at the demon.

“I’ll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go,” Crowley insisted. _I love you._

Aziraphale was quiet or a time. Then he sighed. “You go to fast for me, Crowley,” He said sadly, like it hurt his very Grace to say that.

Crowley’s demonic heart broke, despite deep down knowing Aziraphale’s answer.

The angel left the car, walking away.

Crowley stared at the flask in his had once again, and set it down. He sighed, then started the car.  
\--

In the End Times, as Satan manifested on Earth and the Anti-Christ went against the Great Plan and stopped the Apocolypse. The angel and the demon clasped hands, and three words passed between them without being spoken.

_I love you._

The Anti-Christ willed the Devil out of existence, leaving the Earth untouched just for a little while longer.

\--

So, now, all of the angel and the demon’s interactions have led up to this moment, after preventing the Apocalypse by the sheer force of will, and defying their respective head offices just by being together, they sat at the Ritz, a glass of champagne in each of their hands.

“I think none of this would’ve worked out if you weren’t at heart, just a little bit a good person,” Aziraphale said.

“And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing,” Crowley said with a smile.

Aziraphale gushed, looking down at the table then back at the demon.

“Cheers,” Crowley said, raising his glass toward the angel. “To the world.”

Aziraphale raised his glass, smiling. “To the world.”

They clinked glasses.

\--

The journey of an angel who fell in love with a demon, despite what he had been taught, and a demon who fell in love with an angel, despite thinking he couldn’t even feel after the Fall, had ended, but was only the start of the beginning of the rest of their lives, together despite all odds.

They sat, fingers entwined, chatting at the Ritz while a Nightingale sang for the first time in Berkeley Square.


End file.
